Fates Match
by sarhea
Summary: The Ministry has passed a marriage law to help boost the dwindling magical population but Hermione is not interested, not in any of the available wizards. Then Luna dares her to follow some of the Old Ways and Hermione is most pleasantly surprised because she doesn't have to settle for anything less than her Fates match. AU COMPLETE


**Title: **Fates Match  
><strong>Author: <strong>sarhea  
><strong>Fandom(s):<strong> Harry Potter  
><strong>Categories:<strong> AU, gen, het, romance, drama, supernatural  
><strong>CharactersPairing: **Hermione Granger/Salazar Slytherin/Regulus Black, Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley, Molly Weasley, Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minerva McGonagall, Augusta Longbottom, Severus Snape, Lily Potter,  
><strong>Rated: <strong>NC17  
><strong>Summary: <strong>The Ministry has passed a marriage law to help boost the dwindling magical population but Hermione is not interested, not in any of the available wizards. Then Luna dares her to follow some of the Old Ways and Hermione is most pleasantly surprised because she doesn't have to settle for anything less than her Fates match.  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> threesome, graphic explicit sex, anal sex, sex toys, quasi-bestiality, BDSM  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>AU B7EWE. Tonks and Remus survive. Some Ron bashing.  
><strong>AN: <strong>I'm not an expert on Wicca/Paganism. The elements, myths, traditions of Samhain in this fic are mostly from this site:  
>www DOT new-age DOT co DOT ukceltic-festivals-samhain DOT htm  
><strong>Word Count:<strong> ~7600  
><strong>Status:<strong> Complete  
><strong>Beta:<strong> Alice's White Rabbit and Anthrobug from Project Team Beta. Knew I was bad at commas, never realized how bad! Thanks so much for the help.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I do not own Hermione Granger, or any of the Potterverse characters, JK Rowling does. I'm simply playing with them for purely entertainment purposes, not profit.  
><strong>For: <strong>LJ Community samhain-smut 2013 #86  
>86. Prompt: Hermione brings back someone from the veil on Samhain. She wants that someone special to help her with the marriage law.<br>Suggested Character/Pairing(s): Salazar Slytherin/Hermione/Lucius, Lucius/Hermione/Abraxas Malfoy, Lucius/Hermione/Severus, Sirius/Hermione/Regulus  
>Suggested Kink(s): BDSM, threesomesmoresomes, AU, marriage law  
><strong>Edited:<strong> Sept 23, 2013

AN: I know this is like a year late but better late than never. Hope you enjoy. Right now I'm going through my old WIPs and seeing which ones to focus on next. This year has been plot bunny year and I made a decision to not post anything until it is almost complete. I don't want to start something and not finish because I've been disappointed as a reader myself.

* * *

><p>"You have got to be fucking kidding me!" Hermione glared around the kitchen table of 12 Grimmauld Place. "I did not fight and risk my life to be a broodmare!"<p>

Several witches and wizards opened their mouths then shut them. Because Hermione was right. What the Ministry was doing … it was barbaric. Hermione knew it deep in her bones. But she could also see the other side—there was no other way for Magical Britain to last with all the violence, bigotry, and dwindling gene-pool. But she wasn't ready to throw in the towel.

"Kingsley, surely there is some loophole, some way to get out of this," she pleaded.

The interim Minister of Magic held his hands out, palms up and wide open. "Hermione, my hands are tied. It was passed by the Wizengamot."

"Who will not be affected by this law since they are all ancient, married, and have already fulfilled the clauses of having at least two offspring." Hermione grumbled.

"Not all of them," Minerva murmured. "We did manage to drive in the clauses forcing anyone without two living offspring to be subject to the Marriage Law. And many of them did lose children and only have living grandchildren. They too will have to marry."

"Great, so not only do school-age witches have to worry about finding a good suitor, but they also have to worry about avoiding geriatric perverts." Hermione grumbled.

Minerva McGonagall coughed and blushed lightly. "Actually, St Mungo's has committed to assist older witches near the end of their childbearing years to comply with the Marriage Law. You do know witches in their eighties can have children unlike their muggle counterparts." She sighed. "I, too, am subject to this law. I don't know how I'm going to manage, running a school and raising two wee-ones."

Hermione was aghast. She hadn't realized how many others were going to be just as badly affected as witches in their teens and twenties. At least young witches had plans including romance, marriage, and children. Witches like Professor McGonagall were probably very comfortable and settled in their professional lives.

"How many of the Professors are going to be affected by this?" she asked urgently.

Minerva sighed. "All of us except for Poppy, Horace, and Filius. Pomona and I just barely meet the age requirements. Thank Merlin, Poppy didn't. I don't know what the idiots were thinking of when they passed this law. It's not like we can be easily replaced."

Hermione shook her head. "NO! If the Ministry wants children, they can damn well help the mothers," she said determinedly. "Insist on an increased budget for daycares in all the magical communities and Hogwarts, assistants for Madame Pomfrey, stipends for young couples. No one is going to have children unless they have some guarantees they aren't going to be hung out to dry. Not everyone has extended families or money to have kids when they haven't even found their first job!"

Kingsley nodded. "I made that point with the Wizengamot. They reluctantly agreed and set aside funds for such programs."

Hermione nodded grimly. "They aren't giving us much time to find matches." She pointedly ignored Ron's puppy dog face and Molly Weasley's purpling expression. "Just until New Year to register and then to marry before September."

Minerva's lips pinched. "I know. It will promote many hasty, unwise matches that will cause discord in the future."

"Is there any way we can minimize that?" Tonks asked hesitantly. "To check compatibility between potential couples?"

Luna, who had been sitting very quietly, spoke for the first time since the meeting began. "There are Samhain traditions that can help identify who is best suited to be your husband."

Hermione's lips curled in distaste. "Divination."

"Hermione, there are many things about magic that you know nothing about." And the tiny blonde gave the older witch a pointed look.

Hermione backed off immediately because she had witnessed the impossible and been part of modern mythos: the Hallows, prophecy, Harry returning from death.

Perhaps returning from the Veil was not so impossible.

**~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~**

Hermione looked down at the apple cupped in her hand then up at the mirror before her. She was sitting on a rarely used dressing stool before her mother's heirloom dressing table. Hermione had spent many happy hours playing dress-up using the makeup, accessories, and other items her mother had stored in this particular furniture piece. Firmly, she pushed the nostalgic memories aside and focused on the now.

Sure, this was a muggle Halloween game, but Luna insisted she perform the steps on Samhain. Cut the apple and eat it while brushing your hair and looking in the mirror. A difficult feat given Hermione's thick rebellious mane. For a moment, she considered foregoing the ritual and telling Luna she had seen nothing. Just for a moment. Luna was very perceptive regarding matters Hermione would prefer to avoid. Like finding a suitor.

She bit her lower lip, drawing a bead of blood. Oh, what the heck! It wasn't going to hurt her to humour Luna's antics. A minor, wandless cutting charm split the apple into halves, quarters, then narrow segments. Absently, she began eating the slices between strokes of her brush.

The light orbs set around her bedroom flickered and dimmed, all but the one closest to the dresser. Her image was well-lit and visible in the mirror with a dark shadowy background. Hermione inhaled sharply and resisted the urge to scan for intruders. According to Luna, Hermione should be able to see the wizard meant for her in the mirror, her one true love. It took a lot of control to keep eating the apple and brushing her hair.

And then it happened.

Two forms emerged out of the shadows in the background of the mirror image.

Both were clad in black;, one in all-enveloping sapphire blue robes, formal tailored shirt and pants, polished dragonhide boots — a young Sirius-lookalike with shoulder-length curly black hair and penetrating gray-blue eyes; only, his expression was not openly arrogant and headstrong but rather closed off and wary. The other was clad in leathers; boots, pants, and a sleeveless vest; he had an attractive, ageless face with waist-long dark brown hair secured back in thin braids and pale, almost colourless gray eyes, the irises nearly indistinguishable from the whites.

She did not recognize the man in leathers, but she knew the first. She had seen his picture in albums in 12 Grimmauld Place. Sirius had named him in one of his drunken stupors. Regulus Black, one of the few Death Eaters who tried to break free of Voldemort.

A single tear escaped and flowed down her cheek. "It can't be. You're dead."

Regulus raised one challenging eyebrow as if saying 'so what'.

That look was enough to kickstart Hermione's brain into action.

Death was not the end, not in the magical world. Merlin, she went to a school populated by ghosts and had seen the extent which one megalomaniac went to in order to evade it. Hermione had done plenty of research on the afterlife and rituals involving spirits. It was very possible to call spirits when the Veil was thinnest, on 'Ancestor Night', to seek the advice of one's predecessors. Hermione did not have magical ancestors, but that didn't mean there was no one in the afterlife who would not help if she asked. She hoped.

She stood up and held out a hand to summon her warmest fall cloak. She did not have time to dress, and some instinct kept her from transfiguring her flannel nightgown into more suitable garb. The cloak had plenty of runic enchantments and charms woven into the material to keep her toasty against any chill winds.

Swiftly, she activated the wards and stepped out on her front step to Apparate to one particular wizarding cemetery she knew of.

~o~

Hermione appeared soundlessly outside the Godric's Hallow cemetery she had visited with Harry one evening so long ago. They had nearly died escaping Nagini. But there was no Nagini lurking about in the shadows. And no one would be out on Samhain night when they could be celebrating in a warm well-lit house.

A small globe of conjured blue-bell flames illuminated her path, and it wasn't long before Hermione was standing before a particular pair of gravestones belonging to her best friend's parents. Gingerly, she lowered herself to sit on the yellowing grass before reaching out to touch the engraved letters.

"Hello, Mrs. Potter. I'm not sure if you know me, but I would really appreciate your advice. I know there are others I could talk to, but I would prefer hearing a muggleborn witch's views on the situation I'm in."

"I'm more than happy to help, dear. It is the least I can do for the witch who kept my son alive and true."

The air above the grave shimmered, creating an image of Lily Potter around twenty inches tall. Her smile was warm and welcoming, her eyes very green and serene, very unlike Harry's eyes which tended to be wary, or fearful. She looked very much like the pictures Hermione had seen of her. But then again, she had died when she was just a few years older than Hermione.

Hermione nodded. "Thank you for speaking to me."

"No worries, dear. We've been watching out for Harry and his friends. That Marriage Law business—" Lily made a disapproving tut-tut sound, very much like Minerva. "It's unbelievable how idiotic men can be."

"Well, there are a fair number of witches in the Wizengamot, and they didn't fight too hard." Hermione grumbled. Her expression turned pensive. "And I can't completely disagree with their reasons. I just wish they went about it a better way."

"But that is not what you wish to discuss with me, right?"

Hermione blushed lightly. "Yes." She hesitated for an instant before blurting it out. "I saw two wizards in the mirror. One is dead, and the other I didn't recognize."

"So?"

"So how can my match be a dead wizard?" Hermione shrilly demanded to know.

Lily sighed. "Hermione, dear, you should know by now that death is not the end."

Hermione shook her head. "Feats such as returning from death are reserved for powerful wizards like Harry. I'm just Hermione, a know-it-all more interested in books than boys."

"Come now, I can understand your dislike of boys, but what about men? A mature, experienced wizard who knows exactly who he is and what he wants?" Lily asked challengingly.

"Then I'll say he's either gay, already married, or dead," Hermione answered firmly.

Lily laughed. "Can't argue with you on that. Let's forget about the gay and married ones for now. You said the wizard you saw in the mirror is dead."

"Yes."

Lily gave her a calculating look. "You know it doesn't mean he has to stay dead." Brown eyes widened in shock. "And no, I'm not talking about necromancy or truly evil dark magic."

That piqued the living witch's curiosity. "Then what?"

"The Veil, the barrier between the living and the dead, is thinnest on Samhain. It requires a great deal of effort and sacrifice, but there have been instances where the Fates are willing to give up a soul to the living, to be resurrected for true life."

"I haven't read anything like that!"

"No, you wouldn't. Such events are rarely publicly acknowledged and only recorded in family Grimoires. Mainly due to volatile reactions from the average witch."

Hermione made a face. "The Ministry labelled it as Dark Arts."

"Yes. But it is nothing of the sort, but instead a true bargain made with the Higher Powers, a price paid for a soul who never reached his full potential to be given a second chance."

"What sort of price?"

"The resurrected soul will be forever bound to the one making the bargain, tethered like an anchor. This will bar them from forming any sort of bonds with others, not unless both are in agreement. They will essentially be married to each other."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Hermione commented.

"The kick comes in the conditions. The Fates will only resurrect soul mates, and only if the living half is sufficiently powerful to anchor the resurrected soul. Most who attempt this either burn out or are dismayed to find their soul mate is not who they thought."

"Oh. But Reg—, the ones in the mirror, they are my soul mates, aren't they?"

"Yes," Lily confirmed with a faint smile.

Hermione was baffled. "How can I have two soul mates? I thought it was a one-for-one thing."

"Some souls are compatible with more than one. In your case, they must be equally compatible with you. The question is, can you live with the ones you saw?"

Hermione chewed on her lip. "I think so. But I'm not sure if he would want to."

"If you make the call, you can ask him yourself. And if you are in agreement, you can bargain with the Fates," Lily advised.

"How long do I have?"

"Only until dawn. So I suggest you get moving."

~ooOoo~

Two hours later, Hermione wasn't so certain what she was doing was her smartest choice to date. She had made her bargain with the Fates and was now in the middle of an empty cemetery with dozens of spirits pressing in towards her. The only thing keeping them from overwhelming her was the protection circle marked out in salt. What was worse was the feeling of isolation. Lily could not be with her.

~o~

_"__Only those seeking a second chance—to be your husband—can be present."_

_"__But, I've already seen who I'm meant to be with."_

_"__True. But that doesn't mean they know that. All they see is a powerful witch who has bargained with the Fates, one seeking a husband from the afterlife. Why would they not hope it is them? And, if not, to turn your head with their wooing?"_

_"__I'm not the sort to be charmed by pretty words."_

_"__They don't know that. And if they do, they desperately want a second chance to try it. You might be tempted to choose one who is not your soul mate. Because you feel he deserves a second chance, or is more to your taste. Be wary; the Fates will not take such a change kindly. Not unless you have a very valid case."_

_"__Don't worry. I won't let my conscience run free. I need to choose for myself."_

~o~

Some of the wizards she recognized. They were Light (Sirius Black, Cedric Diggory), Dark who crossed to the Light (Severus Snape, Regulus Black), and Dark (Abraxas Malfoy, Rabastan Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, Tom Riddle). And many more she did not recognize, including her second soul mate.

"Hullo, Hermione." From his broad grin, Sirius looked very certain she was going to choose him. Her lip curled back in a silent snarl. Fat chance. Hermione was looking for a husband who would help her, not a headstrong child more interested in having fun and playing games. She pointedly looked away and scanned the faces of the dead wizards, lingering over two particular ones.

Deciding to lay out her terms from the very beginning, Hermione cleared her throat. Once she had their attention, she began speaking. "I am a muggleborn and proud of it. I will not submit to the Ministry and pureblood tradition. I will not blindly and silently obey simply because I am a woman; that doesn't make me weak or incompetent. I will not be subsumed unless my partner reciprocates. I want a wizard who will stand by me if I decide to fight the world. One who will take my causes as his; one who wants the world to change so everyone benefits, not a select elite. I know who is my soul's match, and I will not settle for less. Cross the circle and join me, if you dare, if you can."

Sirius was the first to disbelieve and step forward and fail. He repeated his actions several times, unwilling to accept the truth.

"You have to choose me!" he yelled. "I deserve a second chance."

Hermione snorted. "I don't have to do anything Sirius Black. I owe you nothing. In fact, you owe me plenty, and you died before repaying your debts."

"But what about Harry? Surely you want him to be happy!"

"I've sacrificed plenty for Harry and the wizarding world. I'm not going to be stuck with a spoilt brat for the rest of my life. I have plans, Sirius Black, and they do not include you!"

She turned away sharply and watched the other spirits attempt to cross and fail. There was a trio standing back and watching; the two she had seen in the mirror and Severus Snape. She caught their eyes and inclined her head respectfully. "Professor Snape."

"Miss Granger," the Potions Master greeted her politely.

"I'm surprised you're here," she confessed.

He made a throwaway gesture, flicking his wrist. "I know you are not my match. I wish to pass some information about my last research projects and assets. To keep it from falling into just any hands."

Hermione conjured parchment and a charcoal pencil and began taking down his instructions. It was oddly morbid, recording a dead man's last will and testament. Carefully, she folded and tucked the parchment and pencil away in her cloak pocket.

"I'll do my best, sir," she said. "It's fortunate you hid most of it in Spinners End and Hogwarts. Minerva won't have any issues collecting and distributing it as you've instructed."

By now, all the other spirits had attempted to cross the circle and failed. As per the rite, they were only allowed three attempts before being forced back across the Veil. By now, the trio were the only spirits left on this side of the Veil.

Hermione turned to the spirit she recognized from the Black family albums at 12 Grimmauld Place. "You are Regulus Black, Sirius's younger brother."

He nodded. "I am."

"It was a very brave thing you did, stealing the locket and getting Kreacher to take it away."

He made a face. "The Dark Lord still caught me."

"But you tried; it's far more than what many others did, with the exception of Professor Snape," Hermione pointed out. She turned to Snape. "Do you wish to try to cross?"

He snorted softly. "You are not meant for me," he said as he did just that and failed.

She turned to the other two. "Do you wish to try?" She met both their eyes squarely. "Just a word of warning. If you succeed, it means accepting my terms."

It was the unknown wizard who responded. "I have no issues with your terms. They are reasonable and well thought out. I only expect mine to be agreed to."

Hermione nodded wordlessly and prayed and hoped they would not be too hideously restrictive and overpowering. Her conscience made her blurt out, "I'm sorry for being selfish. For putting so many conditions. For expecting acceptance and support."

The wizard looked at her askance. "Hush, witch. Nothing in the world is free. And I am used to supporting causes that belong to others."

Hermione was relieved and curious. "You sound certain that you are my match."

Pale, colourless eyes met dark brown, and she was unable to look away. "Of that I am most certain, dearling." And then he crossed the circle. The translucency faded as he became a creature of more than spirit, of flesh-and-blood. Then he moved to stand by her side. He looked directly at Regulus. "If you do not make the attempt, you will forever regret it."

"What is the use, Zar?" Regulus asked, sounding understandably bitter. "You've crossed the circle. You are her soul mate."

"Do it," the wizard ordered in faintly resounding tones.

With a put-upon expression, Regulus Black did. Then he tripped and fell seconds after he rematerialized in the living realm.

Snape raised a brow. "You seem to enjoy destroying my expectations, Miss Granger."

"Perhaps it's because they tend to be unbearably low."

He laughed and turned away, fading as he crossed the Veil into the spirit realm.

The trio—two resurrected wizards and one witch—were left standing in the middle of a salt circle drawn in an unused cemetery plot.

Hermione looked at Regulus Black. "I know you have suffered a great deal. I will try not to make too many demands of you."

Regulus shook his head. "No. I've watched you and your friends. You won't intentionally hurt or abuse anyone." He relaxed a fraction. "It would be more pleasurable working with you than with Death Eaters jockeying for a better spot in the pecking order."

"Your terms?" she asked.

"No killings, torture, or deaths," he said in a joking voice, though his eyes were serious.

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "I'm not planning on any of that. Why don't you think about it a bit. But it needs to be settled before the sun rises." She glanced at her watch. "In two hours and forty seven minutes." She turned to the leather-clad wizard. "I'm sorry, but I don't know your name. And in case you missed it, mine is Hermione Granger."

The wizard smiled slowly as he reached out to grip her fingers and raise her hand to his lips. His grip was strong, fingers faintly callused. His lips were firm and definitely not wet. She hated wizards with wet lips. In Hermione's world, wet lips equalled slimy, sloppy, kisses. Then he looked up to meet her eyes directly.

"If I grant my strength—magic, knowledge, influence—to your cause, will you submit to me? Will you grant me intimate dominance over your body?"

Hermione hesitated. "You mean in bed?"

He smirked. "I never restrict myself to a bed much less the bedchamber."

Hermione thought hard about what he was asking her. Could she submit to this wizard? Listen and obey his instructions? Trust him with her body?

Yes. Yes, she could. If she could not trust her soul mate, who could she trust? Her lips shaped and voiced her answer. "Yes."

Regulus stirred. "I want a family, children, someone who cares for me, someone who believes in me." He looked between Hermione and the other wizard. "I know Zar cares and believes in me. I don't know if you do."

"I can't promise I feel it right now, but I'm certain I will once I get to know you, Regulus. You are a good wizard who tried to do the right thing. As long as you keep trying, I'll always be there to support you." She snorted. "Trust me, even lost causes don't deter me. And trying to make sure my friends studied and stayed out of trouble were definitely lost causes. Didn't stop me from trying though!" She stared at her second soul mate, Zar, "You know, you still haven't introduced yourself."

Both brows raised, and the corner of his mouth twitched in a repressed smile. "I haven't, have I." It was a rhetorical question that made her wand hand twitch. "My name is Salazar Taliesin Slytherin. Yes, one of the Founders of Hogwarts."

Hermione eyed him critically. "You don't look anything like your statue in the Chamber of Secrets. Or sound like an avid supporter of blood purity."

To her surprise, he just laughed. "Time is the enemy of reputation and beliefs. It erodes away at both." His expression turned somber. "Trust me dearling, I am definitely no supporter of such illogical beliefs and prejudice. I have very logical reasons for my views, rather cold and pragmatic but logical."

Hermione nodded slowly. "I always thought so. Otherwise, why would you have agreed to establish Hogwarts in the first place?"

"True. Now Reg and I require some evidence of good faith." Hermione swelled, about ready to explode when he covered her mouth with one hand. "Prove you are willing to submit to make us happy."

She stilled and then pulled his hand away from her mouth. "How do I do that?"

"Do not fight us. Submit," he instructed as he stepped back.

She waited and then gasped when fast-growing vines emerged from the grass and began winding their way up around her calves then thighs. It took some effort to stop the instinct to burn and slash her way to freedom. He was watching her. They were watching her. So she remained still as the vines reached the tops of her thighs and then tore through the warm flannel material of her nightgown to encircle her wrists, trapping them on either side of her hip. She could not lift her hands to reach her wand or cast a spell. She could not step or turn away. She was trapped, vulnerable, exposed, and unexpectedly very aroused.

Salazar murmured something, and the air warmed. He was loosening the laces of her cloak and pulling it off her shoulders. Suddenly, she wished she was wearing something silky and sexy, not humdrum, enveloping, flannel.

They were behind her now, both speaking too softly to be heard clearly. One of them hooked a finger into her collar, tugging it back, and she heard the material tear cleanly. Too cleanly. A spell or a blade. She went very still as the shoulders and sleeves were cut as well. The material fell from her body and gathered loosely around her waist. The only thing keeping it there were the vines that had ripped through the seams to bind her hands. She was suddenly very conscious of her bare breasts and wished her hair was down and covering her front.

"You are very quiet," Salazar murmured as he moved to stand in front. Oddly, his eyes were trained on her face not her exposed skin. He was holding a short blade made of some black glossy material. It glinted like polished glass under the moonlight. Obsidian. Hermione tensed minutely. Was he going to hurt her? She could Apparate. Sure, she'd risk splinching, but it was better than dying.

He was looking at her. Watching. Waiting. In that moment, she _knew_ he was waiting for her to protest, to flee, to go back on her promise to submit. Hermione was made of sterner stuff than the average witch. Her soul mates would not hurt her. They would _not_. So she held still and watched as he lifted the pressure-flaked edge to the bare front of her right hip, scoring a faint red welt but never cutting deep. Then the edge was dragged along the outer curve of one leg then the other, cutting the flannel so it fell away and landed around her feet.

Hermione glanced down and winced. Her thighs were rather chunky, more curvy than lithe. She had been putting off exercise and spending more time in libraries and workrooms. At least she had kept up with her depilatory charms and potions.

"You are not afraid."

She looked up at Salazar. "Not really. Just a little embarrassed. I'm not used to being so ... exposed," she confessed.

He chuckled darkly and leaned forward to brush his rather prominent nose along her jaw and up to her ear. "That is something we will have to work on," he whispered. The voice and words made something tighten inside her and only the vines kept her from squirming.

His hand gripped her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his as the other one holding the blade trailed down to the apex of her thighs. At some point, he must have reversed his grip because she could feel something hard and blunt slip between her lower lips and run along her slit. When the textured, rounded end rubbed against her clit, it was almost painful. He must have sensed that because he angled the handle so it slid around her clit then up and down with the perfect amount of pressure.

She was almost whimpering when he finally thrust the handle into her opening. It was too rigid and thick, but the heavy ridges were better than any dildo. Inch by inch, he pushed it higher into her until she could feel the cool hardness of glass against her inner thighs. She did not want to cut herself. He wouldn't let it cut her, right?

He read her mind. "The blade will not permanently or seriously harm you." He gripped her elbow and pushed her down. "Kneel," he ordered, so she did.

She allowed him to manoeuvre her to sit back on her heels, to spread her thighs apart. The vines had shortened, pinning her hands closer to the straw-like grass. She could see the obsidian blade protruding from her body like a rather exotic dildo. Then he murmured something, and Hermione felt i_something/i_ twitch inside her. It was the blade! It was a struggle to keep still as the animated handle thickened and lengthened inside her. It reached places inside her she never knew she had, rubbing against a particular spot that made everything tighten and twist.

"Salazar!"

He was pushing her trembling thighs apart as she thrust her hips up, needing _more_. His fingers stroked her opening that was stretched around the hilt then around her nub. She was so aroused and dripping wet, it embarrassed her to hear the squishing sounds. She squeezed her eyes shut and tilted her face away, unwilling to look either of them in the eye.

"Open your eyes!" Salazar ordered. She couldn't help but obey. He was kneeling just in front of her. At some point, he had untied the laces of his leather pants and pushed them low enough for his aroused cock to rise. He was stroking it with one hand. It was smooth and long, a thick pink-purple shaft capped with a mushroom-shaped head. She wanted to touch it and find out if it was as smooth as it looked. "Look down at yourself." She did and froze.

The obsidian blade was no longer a blade. It was a black glossy serpent with a forked tongue flicking out, tasting the air. Was it a hallucination? Truly poisonous? Would it bite her? Atavistic instincts screamed at her to cut her bindings free, to pull it out of her, and toss it away. Pale gray eyes challenged her to do otherwise. Her soul mate would not harm her.

The handle inside her was bending and flexing in ways a cock or dildo never could, but a muscular snake body could. The coil in her belly was getting tighter, the muscles there and in her thighs trembling from the strain of holding back. And then she lost it and came, nearly passing out.

She was vaguely aware of the flexing thickness inside going rigid and hard like before. He must have reversed spell. She hissed when it was removed too quickly for comfort. Her tissues were swollen, clinging almost too tightly to the hilt, friction-abraded almost painfully by the textured surface. Before she could complain, he was kneeling between her thighs, lifting them onto his, dragging her hips forward until the head of his cock bumped against her groin. She was acutely aware of how vulnerable and open she was. She watched as he gripped himself with one hand and guided his flesh into hers. It was difficult. He was much thicker than the handle, and she was already sore. She whimpered as the thick shaft disappeared inside her inch by inch, forcing her flesh to stretch and accommodate more and more, until he hit the end of her.

She relaxed slightly, thinking that was the end of it, but it wasn't. He placed one hand against the small of her back to pull her towards him, shifting her balance and forcing her to rise slightly on her knees. He must have cut the vines binding her wrists because her arms were free. Instinctively, she threw them around his neck to keep from falling backwards. When he relaxed the pressure and allowed her to sink down, she gasped as gravity and the new position forced him deeper, higher into her. She could feel his shaft pressing high against her insides, pushing against her front from within. She shifted slightly to reduce the pressure and gasped as he hit her most sensitive spots. She went very still, quivering as she struggled to not move, but that was definitely not part of his plan because he rolled his hips up into her. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood and whimpered.

"Tell me, dearling, are you afraid?"

She looked him in the eye and answered honestly. "Yes. I'm afraid you'll destroy me with pleasure. You'll discard me and leave me ruined for anyone else."

"That is one fear that will never come to pass," he murmured against her lips. "You are mine. Ours," he said fiercely as he kissed her hard.

He was definitely not a sloppy kisser; a man not a boy.

Someone was kneeling behind her, faintly callused hands stroking down her back. It was Regulus. His hands were moving down towards her waist, the curves of her arse, and then the crack between them. She tensed as he lightly stroked her anal opening.

"And what about me?" he asked lightly, but Hermione heard the serious undertone in his voice. She twisted her torso to meet his eyes before answering.

"Oddly, I trust you more. You died while following your conscience, knowing you were risking your life by defying Voldemort." She smiled wistfully. "Sirius said you were the dependable son. The one who would do his duty and not shame the family. I'd like to think that I am your family now."

He kissed her. "You are family. You are ours. And one day, you will have our children."

"Oh, yes," Salazar murmured, kissing her neck. "You will be a wonderful mother, fiercely protective and loving, a most worthy lady to both our Houses." And then he ground up into her, making her moan and twist her fingers in his hair and pull.

Regulus chuckled and lifted his hand away from her arse for a moment. He murmured something almost inaudibly, and then one finger was pressing into her back opening, just his fingertip. It felt slick. He must have used a lubricating charm.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No," she said honestly.

He pushed until he was two knuckles deep before curling his finger and stroking the tight inner walls. Then he was pushing a second finger and scissoring her, stroking the thin tissue separating her vaginal and anal passages.

Salazar hissed, very aroused by the sensation. Regulus chuckled and whispered in her ear. "One day, you will take both of us at the same time."

Brown eyes widened in shock. "Impossible!"

"Oh, no, definitely very possible," Regulus murmured as he stroked a spot, dragging the edge of his nail, and making her spasm. "It just takes preparation and practice." He kissed her behind one ear. "And, trust—" his free hand was cupping one breast, rolling and pinching and pulling the nipple "—that we will not harm you. Can you imagine it, witch? Being stretched so tight you think you will tear? But you don't; both your cunt and arse stretch and give way so beautifully. Because you are meant for us." He was now playing with her other nipple. His words made the coil in her belly tighten deliciously and a gush of fluids to spill and coat Salazar's cock and groin. Regulus was petting the curls covering her groin, combing through the thatch of damp curls, circling her clit with two fingers but carefully avoiding the protruding, hyper-sensitized, flesh itself. He bit the lobe of her ear, curled both fingers in her arse, and raked the edge of his nails over the underside of her clit all at the same time.

Hermione came hard, screaming and clenching, all the muscles in her lower body tightening and spasming. The pleasure was almost unbearable. It was almost a relief when she passed out from the overload.

**~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~**

Harry was nervous. Hermione had vanished right after Halloween. The only contact had been an owl-post saying she would be back in December for the registration. And she was cutting it really thin since today was the last day.

"I'm wagering she has no one. If she found someone, she would have returned weeks ago," Ron speculated out loud. Rather cruelly too, Harry thought. "She's probably unmatched and just denying it. Hoping for a last minute saviour like Viktor Krum."

Harry glared at his best friend. It wasn't the first time Ron had talked badly about Hermione, but to do so in such a public venue, so calculatingly, so cruelly … Ginny felt the same, because a second later, Ron was hexed and his mouth was zipped shut.

"Oh dear," Ginny said saccharinely. "I'm afraid we're too busy to go to St Mungo's, so you'll just have to shut up and wait 'til the party is over. Besides, it's not like you're dying."

Harry sneaked a few quick glances. Yes, some of the witches and wizards around had heard Ron's crude words, but they were not brave enough to agree with or argue against them. Were these cowards the ones he had fought for? No. Harry had fought for his friends and family of choice, not these fawning sycophants. They could not make up their minds and take a stand. Harry was certain if he had indicated in the slightest that he agreed with Ron, they would be loudly claiming to feel the same.

"Forget it," he sighed. "How long do we have to wait?" He wasn't fond of Ministry functions, and a function celebrating the Marriage Law was definitely low on his list.

"Today is the last day," Minerva murmured. She was standing next to her new husband, Sean Finnegan, Seamus's grandfather. "Anyone who has not married or registered a betrothal must do so tonight or risk being assigned a partner." She looked around, her gaze always going back to the main doors. "I've seen all of our friends but one."

"Hermione."

"The girl is rather headstrong," Molly said fretfully. "She always has to do things her way."

"Because your way is not best for **her**," Harry said coolly, challenging his future mother-in-law. He loved Molly Weasley, but he would not tolerate anyone speaking ill of the witch who he considered a sister; the only one to care about Harry above all others.

Molly's lips tightened, and she said nothing as she reversed Ginny's hex on Ron. Harry gripped Ginny's wrist and deftly moved away before she could berate them in sub-vocal tones. He was not interested in a scolding, and Ginny felt the same as she sidled towards Kingsley. There were too many who would not tolerate anyone airing dirty laundry in public, and Molly Weasley's harangues were definitely cases of airing dirty laundry.

"I think Hermione is fine. More than fine," Luna Lovegood murmured, looking at the balcony doors.

Everyone turned to see what she saw and gaped.

Standing there framed by scarlet curtains and the night sky beyond the open glass doors was Hermione Granger scanning the hall. And she was not alone. There were two very dark wizards standing on either side of her. One was recognizable but still a shock to see since he was supposed to be dead.

"Regulus Black!"

It was uncertain who recognized the wizard. But who was the other one?

She ignored the hushed whispers and stares as she touched her companions' arms before making her way towards them. Or, to be precise, towards Kingsley.

She looked beautiful and confident with her hair pulled back and twisted into a wispy knot with blue-green peacock feathers pinned in her hair. Her dress was a matching peacock blue silk gown embroidered with green and gold that bared her arms, shoulders, and most of her chest before flowing down to the floor. On her narrow feet were strappy gold heels, that made tapping noises against the marble tiles, and bared her toe nails with their teal-green nail polish. Her fingernails were also painted teal-green.

She reached out with both hands to touch the biceps of her companions, one covered in a heavy traditional robe made of blue velvet so dark it was almost black, the other in a muggle-style coat made of pebbled green-gray leather.

Green eyes widened when Harry recognized the material: basilisk hide. But from where? How did he get it? Who was he? Then Hermione answered his questions.

"These are my consorts: Regulus Black and Salazar Slytherin. We are bonded under Samhain rites, and I am carrying the fruits of our union." Her right hand went towards her waist, smoothing the material down in an unmistakable allusion.

Ron sneered. "Disgusting. I never knew you'd sink so low to choose a Slytherin. Or be so desperate to fuck a dead wizard, let alone two."

There were seven tense seconds of silence before murmurs of barely restrained ire filled it. And several angry gazes were directed towards Ron Weasley. And not just from the dark families.

"You wouldn't think it was disgusting if it were you and two witches," Ginny hissed in her brother's face, too angry to contain her ire.

Madame Longbottom pushed her way through and charged right up to Ron.

"You disgraceful, ignorant, brat!" she snarled at him. "Minister! I demand you fire this incompetent buffoon who cannot even recognize a true, Fates-blessed, Samhain match!" Her upper lip curled distastefully. "No wonder Miss Granger left you. You are clearly too weak and dim-witted for her." She turned towards Hermione and the two wizards. "My apologies, Lord Slytherin, Mister Black. Very few know the Fates can be petitioned for the dead to cross the Veil and join with their soul mates in the Living. Education standards in recent decades has fallen terribly under the last Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. He cut out all the courses and removed all the books dealing with Ancient Magicks and Traditions."

"But he failed to destroy all possible sources," Salazar Slytherin murmured huskily, seductively, as he trailed one finger over Hermione's bare shoulder.

The Gryffindor witch smiled secretively and caught his eye over her shoulder. "Nothing is impossible for a determined witch," she murmured slyly. He chuckled and cupped her shoulder, spreading his hand over the rounded body part, palm cupping the joint, and long fingers splaying over her upper chest. A very possessive action that Hermione did not fight. In fact, she leaned back into his body.

"But she's a muggleborn!" someone protested.

Salazar Slytherin raised an eyebrow, as if saying 'so?'

"All the histories say you hate muggleborns," Harry Potter added cautiously. "Your descendants were very fond of acting on their Blood Purity beliefs."

The Founder snorted. "Any history book saying that is lying. I never hated muggleborns. I disliked the society they came from and felt we should be cautious about teaching them."

"Because in their time, the priests called magic a devil's taint, and the Church was always right. How were they supposed to hide what they were from their superstitious parents? How many of those first muggleborns were stoned and killed because their own families feared them and turned them in to the church?" Hermione asked softly.

No one could answer. Because no one had those figures. The only accounts of witches and wizards escaping the fires were of mature, adult, trained individuals, not children.

Salazar smiled smugly, pleased by the understanding dawning on previously blank faces.

"My Lady has summarized it quite succinctly. And that is why I could not help but respond to her call. I have met others strong enough to call across the Veil, but never one so pure of heart and intent, with such an unwavering iron will. The possibilities were quite intriguing." He smirked as he brushed his lips against her temple.

"Cut it out, Zar," Hermione chided softly with no heat.

His expression turned very serious. "I simply could not resist when you were all that I have ever looked for."

Harry couldn't help but feel shaken by the emotional intensity of the moment. So he turned towards Regulus Black, who was watching the two with a faint, fond smile. He was more confused by Regulus Black than Salazar Slytherin.

"I don't understand. How can Hermione have two soul mates? How can you share her?"

Regulus gave the Potter scion an odd look. "Why does it concern you? The Fates have allowed Salazar and myself to return to be with Hermione. I have no desire to explain anything to interfering busybodies. We are bonded. Hermione understands me. Zar accepts me. That's all that matters."

Luna Lovegood pushed herself into the foreground to stand before the triad and smiled cheerily. "Congratulations, sirs, Hermione." She grinned more cheerily at the older witch. "It looks like you've received a double blessing from the Fates."

"Oh yes," Hermione quipped. "Double the blessing, double the wizard, double the stress."

"Double the love," Luna added mildly.

Hermione's expression softened. "Definitely, double the love."

"No regrets?" Luna asked searchingly.

Hermione looked up at both her partners and relaxed. "No regrets."

"But Reg and I definitely have plenty of plans to make others regret the stress and anxiety they have caused our witch."

Several witches and wizards cringed, and many others began backing away, disassociating themselves from the more vocal Pureblood Traditionalists and proponents of the Marriage Law. None of them wanted to be in the spell path of two powerful and decidedly dark wizards.

Hermione ... Well, Hermione pretended not to notice the panic her wizards were engendering in the Ministry employees and Pureblood toadies. Oh yes, Hermione definitely had no problems with how her consorts were handling her opponents and adversaries. It was quite nice to stand back and watch competent, mature, wizards handle the bigots without resorting to fisticuffs and name-calling.

With both of them on her side, she was quite certain the Marriage Law would be overturned—or at least heavily modified within eighteen months. She and many other witches would already be mothers by then, but, hopefully, it would help them find freedom and security if they never found it in their matches, like Hermione had.

Silently, she gave thanks to Lily Potter for giving her the push to call for her soul mates. Without them, Hermione was certain she most likely would be bound to Ron Weasley and very miserable about the entire situation.

**~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~**

**The End**

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><p>AN: And definitely will not be continuedexpanded on. A one-shot it was written and a one-shot it will remain.

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